to me. I feel sort of relaxed … like you do when you’ve had a couple of glasses of port.’
Bertha looked happy with her response. ‘That’s just what my potion is supposed to do. If you want any more, just say.’ As she eased herself down on a chair opposite Aidy, the young woman got up and went across to the stove, collected a cup and saucer and poured her grandmother a cup of tea. Putting it before her, she sat back down in her own chair, saying, ‘I know that’ll taste better than what you just made me drink.’
Bertha managed a small chuckle. Picking up the cup, she warmed her hands around it before she took a sip of the hot, sweet liquid.
Aidy asked her, ‘Did you manage to do what you went through to the parlour to do, Gran?’
Bertha nodded. ‘I did. Jessie always liked to look her best and she looks beautiful now, bless her. I put on her best blue dress … the one she wore for your wedding. She loved that dress. Only one she ever had that was bought new from a shop. Took that extra job so she could save for it, she did. She so wanted to look nice for you. And she did, didn’t she? I know she wasn’t the religious sort, but I found the Bible the Sunday School gave her when she was a child and she’s holding that. She just looks like she’s asleep, Aidy love. So peaceful. I shall be sitting with her tonight. I can’t bear the thought of her being left alone.’
Normally the thought of being in the vicinity of a dead body would have revolted Aidy, frightened her even, but the body was that of her beloved mother, and her grandmother would be there, so she offered, ‘Would you like company, Gran?’
The old lady reached over one thin, veined hand and gave Aidy’s an affectionate pat. ‘There’s nothing I’d like better, if you feel you’d like to. I know your mam would appreciate it.’
They both lapsed into silence then, acutely aware this would be the last time the three of them would be together.
Taking another sip of her tea, Bertha’s aged face darkened as she spat, ‘I blame him for Jessie’s death.’
Aidy looked at her knowingly. ‘By him you mean me dad?’
‘That man doesn’t deserve the honour of being called yer father. He’s never been one to you, or to your brother and sisters. And Arnold Greenwood was certainly no husband to yer mother after you came along. If he hadn’t left Jessie high and dry, to fend single handed for her brood, she wouldn’t have worn herself out trying to make ends meet, causing her heart to give out. And he didn’t leave her just once, did he? Twice he did it.’ Bertha shook her head, her face set grim. ‘I took an instant dislike to the man the first time I clapped eyes on him when she brought him home to meet me and yer granddad. Yer granddad never took to him either. Don’t ask me why, but there was just something about him we didn’t like. It wasn’t a happy day like it should have been, the day she married him, not for me and yer granddad, but Jessie had made her choice and there was n’ote we could do but grin and bear it.
‘We did think we was wrong about him at first ’cos they were very happy together and he seemed to be being a good husband to her. He’d a reasonably paid job as a dyer for Corah, which gave him the means to rent this place, and he handed her a good portion of his wage for her housekeeping. But then he changed after you came along.
‘’Course, me and yer granddad didn’t really know any of this until after he’d left. Yer mam didn’t want to worry us about the way he was treating her, and she was ashamed that her marriage was going wrong. Every time we visited she’d put on an act that it was all right, so for a long time we thought it was. She told us after he’d left that not long after you were born, Arnold started going out at nights, leaving her home caring for you, and of course he needed money to fund his outings so he cut her housekeeping. And then he’d have the nerve to complain about the cheaper food she put in front of him, and